Welcome Home

"Are you sure about this, Alina?"

Glancing over at the man who spoke, Alina simply nodded her head. Without another word, Alina's petite hands coiled around the strap of her luggage, hoisting it over a broad shoulder while her chocolate gaze traveled over to her destination. The house was a manifestation of her worst nightmares. Even though it was a simple, two-story house, with an upstairs deck in the front; the entire property held a sense of foreboding about it, sending goosebumps sprouting across Alina's pallid skin with a brush of invisible fingers. They slid gently down her arm like an invisible, unwelcome caress. Narrowing her gaze, she roamed her eyes over the brick porch to study the cracks among the panel front. One crack stood out in particular, the mark spreading a good three inches across the paneling. It was jagged, and Alina couldn't exactly recall where it had come from—but she knew she was responsible.

The past, a chime she can hear as she can imagine the soft giggle that had escaped her mouth, her eyes trained on the mark. She felt something erupt in her chest, a tingly sensation taking over her body, "cool! Do it again."

In the back of her mind, she could still remember her excitement when the mark was made…but for the life of her, she didn't remember how it was made or why such a trivial thing would amuse her so much. Dispelling her thoughts, she decided it didn't matter anymore.

Looking the house over once more, Alina had to admit, that it was fairly simple, yet beautiful. With five front windows, a front yard with a glistening stone walkway, and no trees to block the sunlight, it practically glowed—the landscape enhancing its beauty with a touch only Mother Nature could provide. An image so innocent.

It was hard to believe that this place had been the chosen scene of a horrific murder.

Regarding her companion without removing her focus from the house, Alina finally spoke, "I should only have a few more suitcases left."

Dylan seemed to follow her line of sight with a frown, a shadow passing behind his normally cheery eyes."I still think about them, you know."

Alina visibly stiffened before she set her mouth into a bitter scowl formed by the irritation sparking in her eyes, but she chose not to respond. She was hoping the man would get the hint.

Though honestly, she should've known better. When did they ever truly get the hint?

With little regard for the fact Alina wasn't interested in what he had to say, Dylan continued nonchalantly, "your parents were great people. Hardworking, it's regrettable that things turned out the way they did."

Trembling fingers tightened into a fist, dark emotions swelling behind the tense bones. Without so much as a glance the blonde's way, Alina moved around the side of the car to grab another bag with her free hand, heading up the pathway to her new home the minute she was situated.

Dylan was not even a step behind her. "You were so young when it happened too."

Opening the front door with more force than necessary, Alina stepped into the living area of the place she had spent her childhood. As she began to set down her bags just beyond the entryway, Alina gritted out a reply, "I'm already aware of that."

The blonde flinched at the chilly tone, and let his glasses slide down his nose a bit. "Ah, I was just reminis—"

Alina cut him off swiftly, "I may have lost most of my memories from the “accident”, but I can still remember who my family was, Dylan." Apathetic irises stabbed into cinnamon brown. "I also remember what my parents and little brother looked like when they were covered in blood on the ground after some bastard murdered them without remorse. Now, is that all or was there more you wanted to go on about while wandering down memory lane?"

A stifling silence bloomed between the two individuals, and Dylan's expression was uncharacteristically shifted into one of deep sorrow. For once, the eccentric man had nothing to say. They both knew there was nothing he could say to ease her pain; he had already done all he could while the brunette was living under his roof. Which, if he were honest, was much less than he wanted to accomplish.

Maybe that was why Alina was leaving his home so early in her life. He had told the brunette time and time again, that she could stay for as long as she liked—but the minute she had turned eighteen and was legally able to do as she wished, the girl had decided to move back to the house where she lost everything. Dylan hadn't been able to fathom why anyone would want to return to a place where they had been traumatized. But when he asked, Alina had given him a simple response, "It was inherited to me, that house is my responsibility", so Dylan had left it at that.

Setting down the bag with the others, Dylan slid on a happy demeanor and turned to face the young woman. He didn't want this to end on a bad note. "Is that all, Alina? Do you mean the bags? Because I think I saw two more bags in the backseat. I'll go get them for you. I wouldn't want my lil girl to hurt her arms." He replied, knowing full well that Alina was capable of carrying the bags herself and that the girl was never talking about the bags at all.

Alina picked up on that. Giving the man a look, she had to hold back a frustrated sigh as the man practically dashed from the room to the black car waiting in the parking lot. She had half a mind to shout after the man, kindly informing him that she was not his lil girl', but as she peered through the ajar door, her eyes were greeted with the sight of the other juggling the bags. It was only a moment later when the man let out a loud wail—tumbling backwards with the bags falling atop him. Something akin to fondness fluttered into her chest. Shaking her head at the man's antics, she decided to let it drop for now. The guy was at least trying to be useful.

Turning away from the scene, her heels clicked further into the house. It would take a lot of work to make the room meet her standards, she realized. And here she was hoping it would be move-in ready. That's what she got for being hopeful.

Alina Croix, hopeful.

Wasn't that just hilarious?

Letting out a soft whoosh of air pass over her lips, she simply decided she'd have to call Chris tomorrow. As annoying as the tall ashen blonde was, he was helpful when it came to decorating or anything within that category. For the past nine years that she had been living in his house alongside Dylan, he had been the one to pick out her clothes. She had never met a man with a more in tuned fashion sense, and honestly, she trusted his judgment, at least. Which was more than she could say about anyone else she knew.

Maya, her annoying best friend, could manage to screw up the most simple color scheme unless it was her makeup. Dylan was just bat shit crazy and would puke rainbows all over her walls and want to throw a party ... and Jake had about as much style as she did: Absolutely none.

Chris was by far the best choice out of her severely limited companions.

Brushing off her hands that suddenly felt cold, Alina moved to drag her suitcases further into the carpeted room.

"It seems you've returned…Ali."

Alina dropped her bag in shock. Whirling around to face the direction the voice had come from, the female stared into the hallway leading to the kitchen. Every shadow that passed among the wall suddenly seemed much more dangerous than just a shift of light, claws soaked with fear gorging into her stomach to form a tight knot. She stayed completely still as she surveyed the area—looking for something, anything, that could've spoken to her.

She saw nothing.

Steeling her nerves, Alina slanted her eyes into a sharp glare and advanced forward. Slowly, the click of her heels abnormally loud when the carpet gave way to the wooden paneling of the hallway.

"Anyone there?" She called, sounding like a complete idiot. Silence resumed and as expected, there was no answer. There was no one there; she was just talking to himself. Like a spooked child. Trying to reason away the leftover anxiety coursing through her blood stream, Alina took a deep breath. Dylan wouldn’t play a prank on her… would he?

"Where do you want me to put these, Ali-bear?"

Jolting in shock, Alina whirled around for the second time that day. She must've had a look on her face, or maybe it was the way she gave herself whiplash, because the next thing she knew, Dylan had a concerned look on his face.

"Nee, are you alright, Ali…?"

“I’m—“

Just nervous.

Please don’t look at me like that.

"I'm fine." Bending down to pick up the bag she had dropped like a rock, Alina continued the task she had started before she hallucinated. Playing it cool behind a veil of indifference. "Put them over here by the staircase."

Without even turning back around Alina could feel Dylan itching to ask her more questions, but after tossing him an annoyed scowl, the man did as he was told.

With no more time wasted, the two started to stack all of Alina's belongings neatly beside the wooden stairs. Fitting in each bag atop each other like a wooden piece of a startup Jenga game. When they had finished their work, there was a pregnant pause as the two tried to figure what to do from there. Neither of them could come up with an excuse to spend any more time together. Dylan looked more crestfallen than she felt and Alina was awkwardly staring holes into the nearest wall, forcing away her emotions with a finger on the trigger.

Dylan was the first to speak, a tense jingle of laughter erupting from his oddly stiff frame, "Ah well then, it seems you're all settled in. I should get going since I have a lot of paperwork to do. Being a businessmen isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be."

"Yeah. I doubt Jake would appreciate an extended leave either." Alina agreed, though instantly after the words left her mouth, she frowned. It was easy to see that Dylan was holding something back, and as the man laughed again, the crinkles starting to show his age among the corners of his eyes—she could pin point the sad undertone rippling through. Somehow, she just knew she was to blame. Thinking back to earlier when she snapped at the man, Alina felt a stab of guilt.

She didn't regret putting the man in his place, but she did regret hurting his feelings while doing so. Despite how much Dylan annoyed her sometimes, the man was still a heavy part of her life. He had been in her life since she was born…and he had practically raised her for most of her life. Also Alina would be lying if she said she disliked him by any means. It wasn't like when they had first been reunited after the accident. She had to admit, she been a total wreck back then; throwing punches and taking her rage out on anyone that would give her the time of day. It had taken until this year for her to finally grow up—perhaps, she was a bit apathetic and too composed for some people, but at least she didn't try to kill everything that came her way anymore. Dylan had helped her change, along with his son Chris, and it wasn't as if she knew when she would even see the former again.

And she had been a complete and utter jackass.

Alina decided that one of these days she'd consider removing the stick permanently shoved up her ass.

Watching with a blank mask in place as Dylan began to maneuver through the doorway, with an over dramatic call of "Farewell, my sweet girl! Till we meet again!" Alina felt her already rocky stomach plummet south.

The tip of her nails pinching the soft edges of her sweater. "…Do—you maybe want some coffee before you go… or tea?" Her traitorous tongue suddenly spouted, and she could hear how childlike she sounded again.

Dylan paused in the doorway, one foot already partly out, before he smiled brightly at the brunette. "That sounds fantastic, Ali-bear. I’m sure I could squeeze it into my schedule."

Allowing a brief smile to curve her pink petal lips, which her adopted father missed entirely as he was too busy doing a strange happy shimmy, Alina headed into the kitchen. It wasn't long after that Dylan followed and had himself situated at the dining room table that Maya had brought over the night before. Alina was standing by the coffee pot, waiting for the last bit of bitter black liquid to gather in the pool. A comfortable aura surrounded the room, and as the youth waited, she leaned against the cutting edge of the counter top.

It was peaceful like this…but the youth felt oddly cold. Her hands coming up to ruffle her sleeves as she rubbed her forearms. It was like she was being frozen from the inside out. Razor sharp crystals breaking off to form ice beneath her moonlight colored flesh. She slid her gaze to the corridor she had walked through not too long ago, her eyes boring into the door leading to the basement. Her brows furrowed and the cold bit into her skin even deeper.

She’d have to check the furnace, definitely.

The machine to her left suddenly beeped to alert her that the coffee was ready, and Alina shoved the feeling of being watched away. Grabbing two mugs from a box on the counter, Alina swiftly began to pour the steaming liquid into its respective containers. With a flick of her wrist, he snatched two sugar packets from the counter, tossing them Dylan’s way. One hit him in the face whilst the other landed on the man's lap. "Alina!! That's not nice!"

Taking a seat across from her caretaker, Alina slid the coffee mug in front of the visibly teary eyed man. "Here, you crybaby.”

Pouting at having his complaint ignored, Dylan took the packets gracefully given to him, and put them in his drink with a smooth rip and shower of white. Alina moved to hold out a spoon to him and Dylan gestured his head in thanks, before his nimble fingers took the utensil and mixed his coffee with an elegant swirl. Then the man took a sip of bliss.

Alina was right behind him, her pale throat shifting as the warm liquid slid down like a security blanket.

They stayed like that for quite a while, enjoying each other's presence while the caffeine settled into their system. The biting cold washing away from the figures as the clock on the wall ticked by.

It wasn't until ten minutes had passed, that the tranquility had been gently pushed aside.

"I want you to know you can always call me if you need anything, and Chris too. He's been basically sulking all week about you leaving. " Dylan said as he finished the last of his beverage, "my poor riffraff is going to be lost without you there." The man was smiling fondly at something, although Alina wasn't quite sure what. She would guess that it was something of his own personal thoughts. Alina waited for the other to continue, and found herself blinking in surprise when the older man suddenly gave her a sincere, rare, simper, "we're going to miss you."

Another heartbeat, and she was feeling warm again. Staring silently across the table, Alina recalled the good (and insanely crazy) times she's had with the family she had come to love like her own. She remembered the dangerously inventive cooking, Chris petting her hair at night when the nightmares couldn’t be kept at bay, and even the absurd pillow fights. Why was she leaving that behind? What could possibly be worth her own sense of reprieve?

As if to answer her, the familiar fuzzy feeling clouded her head, always nagging silently in the back of her mind. Oh right, that was why. Her memory… shifting her eyes closed, she tried to remember what living in this house had been like. It was there, in the back of her mind, but there were too many broken pieces—the puzzle refusing to come together. She needed to find those pieces, here in this house, on her own. She couldn't move forward until she did. She just couldn't, not until she found out why she blamed herself for her family's untimely demise. So much that the sheer guilt had ripped and torn at her for years.

The answer was here. It had to be. She didn’t know what came next if the answers weren’t here.

Reopening her doe colored irises, Alina nodded and gave her coffee another small sip. "I'll make sure to visit."

Dylan hummed his approval before he stood up, giving his daughter one last warm smile. "I must get going. Call me as soon as you can."

That earned an eye roll from the girl, "Alright, alright. It's not like I moved out of state."

As if a switch had been flipped, Dylan burst into a fit of laughter. Large palms coming up to ruffle up her dark brown locks before the older man headed to the door. “Like I said, call me as soon as you can, Ali-bear. You may be a brat, but I’m still going to be there for you!”

Twisting her face from the grimace it had been set in and that was most assuredly, not pouting or even remotely brat-like, Alina huffed after him.  

"I'm not a brat, now get out!" The brunette growled as she followed behind the taller man, watching as his silhouette hit the rays of sun outside her new abode.

"You're so mean to me. I just want what’s best for the b r a t.”

A twitch flirted with the edge of her brow, a headache beginning to form in Alina’s temple. "You leaving is what's best for me."

"So mean." Dylan repeated before he signaled a wave with his hand, his cinnamon dusted eyes twinkling behind his thin wired glasses. If it weren’t for the soft crinkles and the speckles of gray in his stubble, he wouldn’t have looked a day over thirty-five.

 Alina propped herself up against the wooden frame of her door. She stood there with a smile on her face until the sleek black vehicle was receding from sight down the road.

She gave the already gone vehicle a small wave. Noting to make sure she at least sent him a text goodnight so he wouldn’t be worried about her.

With that, Alina promptly nudged her front door shut with her hip. It was almost too easy, she decided, to get under her skin. Maybe he knew her a little too well, or maybe she was just sensitive. Releasing a sigh for the hundredth time that day, the woman threaded her petite digits into her muddy locks, pulling the bangs back away from her face in a small fist. Now she needed to get to work.

Facing her back towards the door, Alina glanced over at the stacked suitcases.

When..?

Blinking in surprise, Alina stared wide eyed at the mess before her. The suitcases were flung open, and scattered every which way as though someone had barged into the pile. Most of them were empty, her belongings scattered across her plush carpet, all mixed together.

Alina immediately felt a burning, accusatory, anger towards Dylan.

Last time I'm nice to his sorry ass.

Damning kindness to the fiery depths of hell, she knelt down beside her suitcases and she began to pick up all her items. One by one.

It was going to be a long night.

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Three hours.

180 minutes of her life, wasted.

She could not believe this. It had taken her that long to simply pick up all her crap and organize it the way she wanted to originally. That was three hours shoved down the drain because of a task that shouldn't have even taken a full forty minutes, let alone one hundred eighty! Growling to herself in a vindictive manor oozing contempt for her adoptive father, Alina placed the last of her shirts—a polyester one colored the shade of the morning sky-on a hanger, placing it in her closet to reside with the rest. Then she jerked her closet shut with a snap of her wrist and in a swift stride stalked over to her modest full sized bed.

She wasted no time in stripping off her sweater, pulling the article of clothing over her head to be tossed mercilessly onto the floor. Next went her faded blue jeans. Shimming them down her ample thighs to kick them off her short pale legs when she ended up hopping around in only her ebony panties. Alina felt immediate relief when they were finally freed from her feet. Then she eyed her well-earned prize: A simple silky pink nightdress and a mattress that resembled sanctuary. She quickly changed and moved towards the blankets which called her forth like a siren.

She obeyed their enticing song.

Plopping down on her bed -which was another gift from Maya-with a very audible groan, Alina dropped her forearm across her face. The minute her back hit the soft plush of her bed, Alina fell into bliss. Her limbs and back were aching, and the softness enveloping her form was beginning to stroke away the tension, keeping it at bay. Soon, the girl wanted nothing more than to dwell into the land of sleep. With eyelids heavy and irises blurring the lines of reality with her exhaustion, Alina had decided to slip her eyes shut. Sleep pulling her in with open arms, encircling her waist as she took a deep breath into unco-

BEEP BEEP!

Alina's eyes snapped open with complete murder.

BEEP BEEP!

Rolling over onto her side, Alina shot her hand out to retrieve her phone that was going off at the most inconvenient time possible. Why did she even own a damn cell phone?! Letting out a rumble that sounded suspiciously like a growl, her fingers curled around the device and the moment they did Alina smacked the phone to her ear with a very annoyed, "What!?"

There was silence on the other line before a familiar voice muttered into her ear, nagging her about how that's no way to answer a phone. Instantly, she put a face to the voice--Chris. Letting out a weary sigh, Alina rolled back over reluctantly onto her back, getting comfortable. "What do you want?" She asked, knowing there was no way she would be able to just ignore the guy. She's tried—the little blonde demon is persistent.

"I wanted to ask how things were going." The silent 'duh' made her mouth twitch.

"I just left. I have nothing to say yet." Alina reminded him smoothly, and to that he let out a faux dramatic huff, so much like his father, going on and on about how it feels like he's been gone forever and that she could at least humor him with a response. The entire time he talked her ear off, she could picture his expression as he did so. Big brown eyes glossed with fierce determination to hold her attention and large white lips set into a pouty frown, when his hands would be caught scratching at his own dark blonde curls. Sooner than Alina would want, he'd always end up throwing his arm over her shoulders—his mouth splitting open into a carefree smile that she cherished. She missed him already, him and his big goofy glasses that oddly only added to his popularity.

Her mind wandered to a time long before now.

"This is Alina, she'll be living with us for a while."

She had been shaking at that time, pouring all her hatred and frustration into the ground with her eyes. Tears so sharp in her line of sight, but they had been refusing to fall. It was then she seen a pair of tiny white socks inching towards her. She hadn't bothered to look up; she was too busy trying to stop her shoulders from shaking.

Then small fingers reached out to touch her shoulder and she had looked up sharply with a held breath. She was struck by such a simple face, younger than her own, staring at her with complete concern. There was no pity there, just pure worry. She remembered that at first glance those eyes had scared her, and as she traced the outline of his features, she had wanted to cry. And she didn't know why, but those long strands of dark lashes and those eyes so close to wine, made her want to cry. They reminded her of something.

Of someone…?

She had backed away and the little boy had hesitated before advancing again. This time, his warm, warm, hand had grasped her own. She felt the shaking stop and when he stared at her, her lips sealed shut with cement, he had smiled. "I'll take care of you," he had promised and he had kept his word.

His ash blonde locks no longer appearing ebony anymore, and those scary eyes she had seen within his own, melting away.

Those warm hands, she wanted to never let them go.

"Earth to Alina? Are you listening to me? C’mon, I’m not that boring, am I?"

Alina blinked away the random memory that had invaded her mind, and cussed internally. "Um, Yeah. I mean, no. I was listening."

She winced when she heard him huff over the phone and the next thing she knew, he was asking him to repeat what he said.

It was then, staring at the rough pebbled ceiling above her, that she resigned herself to her fate. She was never getting off the damn phone. No, he was going to nag her to hell and back the minute he realized she had zoned out on him. Kneading her fingers in circular motion on her temple, Alina muttered out a very simple, "You're so annoying."

Then it began. The two had continued to spew insults back and forth over the phone for a good half an hour. It was like a game to them and for a good while, it seemed like it would never come to a close. But then Alina’s stomach let out a growl that had her cheeks coloring pink.

Clearing her throat as Chris’ chuckle sounded in her flushed ear, Alina quickly made up an excuse to get off the phone, "I have to go. Some people actually have things to do tomorrow."

Chris had let out an insulted huff at the jibe, but he let her go nonetheless, "For your information, I do plenty! But alright, bye ‘Ina."

With an unconscious light burning in her hues, Alina said goodbye. But before she could hang up, he spoke again, "Oh real quick, I didn’t want to say anything but, there’s a weird humming noise to your phone. You might wanna get it checked out. ”

“Oh? I didn’t hear anything, thanks for telling me. I need a new one anyway; this thing is a piece of junk.”

Chris laughed, “ I feel you on that one, dad has shitty taste in phones. You should be glad you’re not stuck on his phone plan, like I am. But anyway, I’ll let you go now, just wanted to give you a head’s up. And ah, I know I never say this but…”

There was a pregnant pause and Alina glanced at her phone, “but??”

“I love you, ‘Ina.”

Huh?

Static.

Alina felt like her eyes were going to pop out of her skull. The three words, so innocent yet foreign, were echoing around inside her skull. Bouncing off the walls of her enclosed mind to tease her brain some more. Did he really just say that? Her heart beat increased; her vision becoming sharper. What should have been happiness…morphed. Her voice deepened into a tone of agitation, "Excuse me?"

There was a pause, before Chris’ voice, softer than usual became apparent throughout the phone, "… what's wrong? Friends say that to each other all the time…so I just thought…I should say it, with you leavin’ and all. If it’s weird, I can respect your boundaries, I know you never viewed us as family like my dad did, but… even if you’re not my sister, you’re still my best friend." His voice trailed off and Alina wanted slap herself across the face. Thinking too much, that was her downfall. Pushing back the anger she felt with both hands, Alina tried to get a hold of her irrational feelings. The panic in her chest so unbearable that she felt her breath quiver when it left her throat. She couldn’t figure out why she felt like this—this was Chris. If he wanted her to shoot herself, she probably would if it meant he’d be okay and happy. The feeling was alien, unnatural.

She physically sat up to make the weight on her chest go away.

"Nothing, never mind. It’s not like that, I just had a long day." Closing her eyes, Alina went to repeat the phrase back to him, "I love—" A noise that signified her phone shutting off hit her ears.

“…you... too?” Lashes brushing down against her high cheekbones twice in shock, she peered down at her suddenly black phone screen. Furrowing her brows in confusion, she clicked a button, only for it to remain dark. The battery died. But the last she checked, she had a near full charge. Frowning, Alina merely shrugged and tossed the blasted thing on her crooked nightstand, rolling out of bed to head downstairs to get something to eat.

She'd worry about her phone later. Maybe it had something to do with the buzzing Chris mentioned? She hoped he wasn’t too mad. She’d have to apologize properly tomorrow.

Stepping down the steps, two at a time, she made away her over to the kitchen at a relatively fast pace. She didn't stop to admire her new, yet distinctly familiar, surroundings. She just skittered past everything in favor of swinging open the fridge, the artificial light casting color over her pale face. Clicking her tongue, she roamed her gaze over the contents. There wasn't much to choose from, but Alina could care less at the moment. Demanding fingers shot out to grasp the nearest edible item, the cool flesh of a nectarine sending slithers of baby smooth pleasure over the trails and dips in her fingers. Bringing it to his lips, they parted in welcome, and with a bite into the fruit, the youth backed away from the fridge as the light faded away behind the closing door.

For a second she just stood there, in the dark of the room. The only source of light was from a window adjacent to her position, moonlight bathing a section of the tiled floor with its brilliance. Alina was never the type to be afraid of the dark; in fact, the lack of light was her domain, free from the stress of the day. So it came as a bit of a shock to her when she started feeling a bit creeped out. Standing in the black shades of the wall, Alina halfheartedly ate another piece of her snack. Her mind no longer focused on the sweet taste, rather, she found herself resisting the urge to sprint up the stairs to her dimly lit room.

It was like the longer she stood pliant, the louder the alarms went off in her head.

Get away. Get away. You have to get away.

Her mind screamed at her, her chest tightening for the third time that day as her teeth ground the substance in her mouth to mush.

But from what…?

Shivering from something other than the cold, Alina swallowed the lump in her throat. Her appetite was gone, and with it came the cold water that splashed heavily into her face at the unmistakable sensation of being watched. Alina—as calmly as possible—placed her neglected, half eaten nectarine on the counter.

She took a deep breath.

Breathing In. Then out.

Then her legs were pulling her away from the kitchen at a steady pace, the hairs on the back of her neck standing at attention. She didn't look back, even as she passed the basement door and she felt her wind pipe fail her, she refused to turn around. Her face was set in stone; she didn't feel anything.

She didn't.

Her bare feet thudded against the cool wood of the stairs, her plump legs pumping as she all but jogged up the stairs. Alina was a prisoner of her own need to escape. She didn't break away from her hasty movements, not even after she was in the safety of her own room. A light jog still heavy in her limbs, when Alina practically launched onto her bed. Her pretty face becoming hidden underneath the covers in a matter of two seconds.

She stayed there, buried under her blankets, like a two year old. And she didn't even know why; she didn't even want to think about it. Her heart pounding  so loud in her ears she thought she might go deaf.

Alina fell asleep like that, feeling the most vulnerable she ever has in her life.

In her dreamless state, she thought she heard a voice, much like her own but much younger, saying a name with complete and utter infatuation, "Claec, you’re here!"

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Shallow breaths that sounded like music to his ears, wrapped themselves around his presence. Taunting, a memory, a little spool of spite. As if he had been summoned by the girl's breathing alone, he found himself wickedly amused where he stood amongst the moonlight.

There in front of him, hidden from his view in a bundle of pitifully placed fear, was his deepest obsession. Or was it? The gears within his head didn’t know anymore, days, nights, all the same. Redundant, overbearing. Ten years, he had been deprived of it. Locked away in this desolate place.

A soft chuckle, rich like the darkest chocolate, swept through the air of the old Croix household. It’s old wood work creaking when his fingers, pristine, white and seemingly sculpted from the finest marble, slid out to dance along the rumpled blankets crinkled ends. The fabric had the texture of withered cotton, and the finger tips scraping among it flinched pleasantly. A mop of ebony hovered over where his hand had traced, tendrils of dark hair brushing over the covers as the man lowered his head, nose almost touching the fabric.

The smell of lilacs and rain assaulted his superior senses, and he smiled. It was her. He was positive now. Alina Croix.

A wicked smile grew more prominent on the man's full lips, his wine colored orbs staring down at the lump in the bed. Peeling back the covers discreetly, his eyes mapped out the woman’s face with vigor.

Beautiful, just as she was when she was just a child. Though then, he hadn’t quite remembered feeling anything other than platonic adoration. Not this nasty, drought, of betrayal.  The girl's chocolate locks still fell in waves and fell over deep honey gems that now resembled stone when she had approached the house. All the while still resembling her younger self, except now, the girl had lost all her baby fat, leaving her chipmunk cheeks behind to the sharp features in its wake. Lips, enticingly full and cherry blossom pink, contradicted with her pale features.

A hum of approval vibrated from the observer, his thick lashes hooding his eyes a tad as he leaned forward, a glint forming in his burning orbs. "It seems you don't remember me, Ali."

The long haired woman seemed to stiffen in her sleep and cool air fell from his mouth to breeze over the slumbering  girl's ear, "That will have to be remedied."

The body beneath him curled into itself, trembling softly.

Claec only smirked.